Things Left Unsaid
by AleTheHOUSEwife
Summary: One-shot. Cuddy's letter to a convicted House before leaving forever.


**Things Left Unsaid**

––

"House.

I would have never imagined that we could come to this, but here I am. I'd come and see you if they let me: I would come and look you in the eye and tell you that this is the last time you talk to me. I'm leaving tomorrow. I'm leaving the house you destroyed, the hospital, Wilson and the most part of what my life has been until now. I'm leaving you. And that's the only thing that doesn't make me think this is wrong. I need to get out of your life as you need to get out of mine. I just can't stay here knowing I'll see you back at work one day, knowing I'll have to speak with you, see you every day. I am not that strong, apparently.

I am not even close to be the woman you think I am, House. You made me break my vows to you. I can't live with this. I can't walk the floors we walked together, knowing I was not able to live up to your expectations. You can't possibly think I'm perfect. I am mortal, and we experienced that painfully, in recent times. I'm human, and I knew it the moment I felt the instant regret of breaking up with you. I am a perjurer – you made me. I just can't tiptoe around you all my life because that's not worth the constellation of mistakes this road is paved with. I know best: I know you better than anyone. I know it's just impossible to keep up with you – I certainly can't. That's it, House: you thought I was your savior. Turns out I'm not. This is the role I thought was cut out for me, but in the end who's my savior? The lengths you'd go for me are just not the right ones. I'd have rather stayed alone in that room before the surgery than having you take Vicodin again to be able to reach out. I know you feel as if giving up your sobriety for me was the supreme sacrifice you could offer to keep me with you. It was not. Changing was the real deal, but you didn't have the faith, the endurance.

I'm sorry, House. For you, mostly. For me, because I'm not destined to be happy, or even remotely satisfied with who I am. I wish I'd been stronger, I wish I had not sent you mixed signals in the years, I wish I had never found out about what you did when I was sick. But again, House, I can't forgive you for who you are. Not anymore.

Time will tamper with our memories, and things will get foggy, confused. Details, words we said, things we did will fade. We'll forget, hopefully, but not now. And even though I hold on to the hope that one day I'll wake up without you being my first thought, there's no going back. That day won't mean I can come back and buy you a coffee. There's no friend terms. There's not even speaking terms.

There will be distance, and it'll have to be enough for both of us. Again, I'm giving up my life for you, and this is going to be the very last time: I'm leaving my best friend, part of my family, my job. I'm leaving because of you and even though I'm doing this for myself first, you made me. You, House. For not even trying and accept my flaws with the same condescendence you use with yours. Because if you did, you'd see my needs beside yours and you'd try and change for real. You can't and I need to come to terms with the facade you put on while we were together. I understand the good intentions, the love you filled it with. I understand you did it for me. But if we were really fine you wouldn't have had to choke your true self. That's not fair for either of us.

Sometimes, no matter how bad you want to change – you just can't. I'm starting to believe this for real, although I lived my adult life in the hope it wasn't true. Mostly because I could foresee this all happening if I accepted your philosophy. Instead, I made my wish that you could be different and when I realized you couldn't, I deluded myself into thinking it was fine anyhow.  
>We can't go backwards. I wish I were able to suffocate the sickness I feel inside at the thought of you, but I can't. I once believed in love, now I guess I believe in settling for less.<p>

I'm leaving tomorrow, Rachel and I are all set. Wilson will take us to the airport, he'll bring this letter to you afterwards.

I know you won't try to find me. Just forget, if you can.

–

Cuddy."


End file.
